The boys were supposed to be learning how to properly set the table for the family dinner party set for later that day. They were doing quite well, well enough that Walburga went upstairs to dress for the event and left Kreacher in charge. They continued to set the table, folding napkins and aligning forks and spoons and knives just so. Orion bellowed for Kreacher, and the crack of Kreacher’s disapparition rang through the silent dining hall.
Regulus jumped as something poked his back. “En garde!” Sirius was in his fencing stance with a silver fork in hand. Regulus giggled and grabbed the nearest spoon from the emerald silk tablecloth, wrinkling it a bit. He whirled around to meet Sirius’s fork with a clang. The brothers shuffled back and forth across the ebony flooring. Sirius chased Regulus around the table, laughing wildly as his fork met Regulus’s spoon again and again. Clang. Shuffle, shuffle, Clang. Clang. Crack!
Sirius tripped on the corner of the table leg at the loud noise of Kreacher’s apparition. Regulus leapt around the table to try and catch him but was caught up underneath Sirius instead. Regulus lunged for the table, hoping to save his brother from the floor, but caught the tablecloth. The tablecloth slid toward the floor, Sirius catching it just as a green and white china plate was about to slide off the twenty-foot-long table.
Fortunately, he caught the plate before it broke.
Unfortunately, a champagne glass rolled toward Regulus—who was not blessed with the reflexive gene Sirius had—and shattered with a high-pitched crash.
The boys stared at each other in horror as they heard their mother’s shrill voice ring out from floors above. “Boys, what was that?”
“Nothing, Mother!” Sirius called, but it was no use. Walburga’s heeled boots were already thundering down the stairs.
She entered the dining hall with a scowl. Regulus was still a heap on the floor, with the tablecloth covering part of his head. His head was tucked between his arms, afraid of being struck. Sirius stood up as straight as he could, facing his mother with all the dignity he could muster. Her glare was downright terrifying, but Sirius’s faked confidence did not waver. Her eyes flicked down to Regulus and drifted toward the broken glass that Regulus had manoeuvred himself to block from her line of sight. She turned back to Sirius with a deadly calm expression. “It was all me, Mother, Regulus had nothing to do with it,” Sirius said, his voice unwillingly shaking. Walburga simply raised her wand.
“Crucio!”
Sirius violently collapsed to the floor. The pain was indescribable. It hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced before. His parents had used other curses on him before, sure. But this one was a whole new level of pain. He barely even remembered screaming. His mother swept away from him, a heap on the ground, her green robes billowing behind her. “Get up,” she hissed.
Sirius couldn’t push himself up off the ground. Walburga wheeled on Regulus as he cowered from her rage. The broken champagne glass glittered on the floor in pieces behind Regulus, the spoon clutched in a fist behind his back. “Mother, it was me, it was my fault.” She slowly turned to glower at Sirius.
“Crucio!” Sirius set back to writhing on the floor in agony. Walburga lifted the curse, leaving Sirius panting on the cold hardwood flooring. “Go to your room!” she shrieked. She pointed her wand at him again, and he scrambled up from the floor. He didn’t know how he got up, after two administrations of the curse, but he was far more scared of his mother than he was in pain. He raced up the stairs as fast as his aching legs could and slammed the door.
***************
Hours of pain and crying later, Sirius heard a quiet knock from outside his door. “Come in,” he sniffled.
His cousin, Andromeda swept in gracefully. She was wearing a pale blue button dress robes, her long brown locks in a large bun. She closed the door gently, and perched herself on the edge of his bed, assessing the situation. Sirius had himself buried under his green duvet, curled into a tight ball. She tapped his shoulder.
He poked his head out, his little face red and tear-stained. His eyes brightened instantly when he saw her.
“Andie!” He crawled out from under the duvet and onto her lap. She wrapped Sirius in a hug as he buried himself in her shoulder. “Andie, it hurts,” he whined.
“I know, buddy, I know,” She whispered, rubbing his back gently. Andromeda sat hugging the eight-year-old for ten minutes before asking what happened.
“They used a new curse. It was the worst thing I ever felt.” Sirius said, looking up at her, his watering grey eyes looked almost black in the darkness of his dismal bedroom.
“I’m so sorry, Sirius. I know they hurt you. But you have to promise me something.” She pushed back on his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his and looking deep into his eyes. “You can’t let them stamp the spark out of you. You have spunk in you, Sirius. I know it’s hard, I know, I have to live it every day, too. I’m not the same as the rest of them, and neither are you.
“You are a ray of sunshine in this dark family. Okay? Do not let them make you forget it. You are special. You are loved; if not by them, then by me. And Regulus, though he may not show it as promptly as I do. Uncle Alphard will be there for you if you need him, too, Sirius. Okay? You can always talk to me, write me an owl, floo me. But do not let them get the better of you and stamp out that beautiful spark. That spark is who you are. You have to be you. Always. Every hour of every day. And it will be hard at times, and sometimes you might have to cover it up a bit to stay out of trouble. But never let it completely go out.” Andromeda took a deep breath and grabbed Sirius’s hands.
“It’s important to be you. It’s important to always be ‘Sirius’. Okay? There’s not a person in the world that’s the same as you and the world would be at a loss if you ever were to give up. Don’t give in. Don’t stop trying. Promise me that? Please? I love you, Sirius. You will always have me.” Her eyes were watering a little bit as she lifted Sirius off her lap and onto the bed.
“I promise,” he whispered. “I promise,” he said with conviction, looking up at his cousin with such determination you’d have thought he was never going to conform to the Noble and Ancient House of Black again. Sirius leaned in for a hug and stood up. He pulled his nice robes out from the wardrobe in the corner and slipped them over his shoulders. He slicked his hair back and reached under the bed for his loafers. Andromeda smiled and pulled out her wand.
“There are so many other grown-ups here I don’t think anyone will notice,” with a flick and a whispered spell, Sirius’s shoes tied themselves. Andromeda stood up, and Sirius offered her his arm.
“Shall we?”
“We shall,” Andromeda laughed.
And together they strode down the Grand Staircase with an aura only the white sheep of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black could achieve.